


Nothing Harder Than the Gospel Truth

by fishharlan16



Category: Urban Shadows (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Original Character(s), Seeking Distractions, brief descriptions of violence, but you're bad at not thinking about things, sometimes you need to not think about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishharlan16/pseuds/fishharlan16
Summary: In which Declan tries, and fails, to not think about his day
Kudos: 3





	Nothing Harder Than the Gospel Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rain in Soho by The Mountain Goats

Declan Sheng stood in his bathroom washing his hands. Again. They still felt unclean, like there was oil covering them. Or blood. Probably blood. Definitely blood. Her blood.

He had killed Savannah hours ago, but he could still feel it, still feel his claws in her chest. He didn’t even have the claws right now, but he could still feel them, right below the surface. Always below the surface. Always ready to come out and tear and cut and stab and-

He turned the water off and gripped the sides of the sink. The oil feeling would go away sooner or later. Nothing he could do about it right now of course. Washing his hands isn’t actually doing anything. It was just a distraction to keep him from thinking about everything that had happened. He looked up into the mirror. For a moment, he could see the demon beneath his skin; smoke in his eyes and his hair ablaze. But it faded fast, back to his usual pale skin and white hair. The orange marks around his eyes almost looked like tears now, forming into streaks going down his cheeks. How long had they looked like that? It had been two years and he still wasn’t sure how or why the markings shifted.

Declan stepped away from the mirror and went back to the living room of his apartment. So much had happened in just the last day and he still wasn’t completely sure how to parse it. He finally learned how he died. Before this, he had always imagined that learning would give him a sense of closure or some kind of understanding. Maybe he would finally be able to put things together, remember more than just the last two years. Instead, there was just a deeper pit than before. Every time he tried to explore that pit, he just came back exhausted. Savannah had killed him, on Bael’s orders, just as some kind of twisted recruitment. And even knowing that, he still had to keep working for the fucker. He might be able to get some answers out of him one day, but for now he was stuck.

He sat down on the couch and turned on the television, hoping to find a distraction there instead. Thousands of channels, thousands of shows, and he just needed something. Anything to keep his mind occupied. Just noise so he didn’t have to think about the shitty day he had.

It wasn’t long before his mind drifted anyway. He was hoping to just have some time to figure things out. That was even part of why he went to see Walter afterwards. He needed to drop off the demon, sure, and yeah he had issues with Walter’s experimentation, but he was hoping to maybe talk things through a little. Walter might be kind of an ass, but he was still a therapist. And as far as Declan knew, he cared about him. When arrived with the requested demon and a dead friend, he was anticipating sympathy. Declan wasn’t trying to be too hostile, just exhausted. He might have come across as angry, but that didn’t justify Walter fucking turning the tables and blackmailing him. Blackmail! After everything that Declan had done, after saving the prick’s life and bringing an entire demon so he could have a subject for his work, and the thanks he gets is blackmail. If Declan didn’t have to make sure that demon eventually reached hell, he’d just drop Walter completely at this point.

The television got turned off then. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t enough to just have the noise and light. He needed to do something. There must be interests he had, something else to occupy his time. But he wasn’t actually sure what those were. He must have something, but the memories weren’t there. None of them were. Sometimes it felt like he could reach out and grab them, remember them, but they always fell through his fingers.

Earlier, when he had seen his siblings on the express, he thought he could remember something. There was a flash of familiarity, he was even happy to see them. Connor and Reilly. Connor was a paralegal. He lived in Queens and had a boyfriend. Reilly was a teacher living in Manhattan. They got along better, and there are even some fuzzy memories of growing up together. But that’s pretty much it. That’s all Declan could remember about them. No birthdays, no favorite foods, no hobbies, no pets, nothing. Names, occupations, and general location. He didn’t actually have their addresses. If he looked, he could probably find their jobs.

Maybe that could work, occupy his mind. Give him something else to do. It’s not like there’s too many places he could check anyway. A few dozen schools, a couple law offices. He had a rough idea of the area. That narrowed things down. He went to his computer and started up a search, looking through various websites and job forums. Hopefully, this would take him a while. Hopefully, this was something he could do to stay occupied and not think about things.

He doesn’t want to think about how so much else happened while he was dealing with his own shit. Orion, who Declan is actually starting to appreciate, is now sick and there are only a couple ideas why. And on top of that, apparently that one fae drugged him. Faidra helped him, of course. She’s good at that. Part of Declan is actually worried about that specific detail. Not that she’s good at helping. He’s worried that she feels obligated to help, that she feels like she has to. He wants to make sure that she feels secure and isn’t taking on too much responsibility. She had been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. God, he was terrified for her.

Damnit, there he goes again. With a sigh, he turned off the computer. Some progress was made, but he’d need to look a little deeper at things to put them together. He needed something else to do. He grabbed his jacket and his tools and went down to the garage. Bike maintenance was something he liked, something to do with his hands. Honestly, it was one of the few things that still felt right in his memory. Despite everything, it might be one of the best things to directly come out of his deal with Bael. The bike is a constant connection for him, something to work on, to ground him, to support him. That bike is his and his alone. It seems to be one of the main constants in his life. The only thing that felt off about it was that it felt like it came out of his deal with Bael.

So much of the shit he was dealing with came out of that deal. His lost memory, the separation with his family, killing his friend, the blackmail, all of it could be traced back to Bael. Declan knelt down next to his bike and set to work on the engine. And as he adjusted, he began planning. The deal couldn’t be permanent. There had to be a way out, something other than the method Savannah decided to use. If it existed, Declan would find it. Savannah was right. The deal was rotten, and he wanted out.


End file.
